


Stage Fright

by IdleSin (inkstainedwretch)



Series: Metal and Magic [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Interchangeable Robot Genitals, Mutual Masturbation, Other, Post-Pacifist Route, Reader has a vulva, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Glitches, heart goo, okay NOW the relationship is a thing, there's also some negative self-talk but it gets resolved happily, vibrating fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/IdleSin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite your insane guilt over watching him in his dressing room, you get along pretty well with Mettaton now that the two of you have formally met. When he asks you to dinner, however, you realize you're going to have to confess your sins if you ever want to look him in the eye again.</p><p>[Reader has a vulva, but no gendered pronouns are used. There's also no specific chest stuff (mentions of bras, etc.), in case that's a concern of yours.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stage Fright

You never thought you were the kind of person who liked picnics, but there's something about Waterfall that makes you want to be outdoors. You're not sure what, but it's a freakin' miracle; nothing and no one could make you enjoy being outside up on the surface. Maybe it's the fact that it's not too hot or too cold. Maybe it's the music box you can hear in the distance. Maybe it's just the gems twinkling above you. Doesn't really matter. Point is, it's nice.

The sandwich you brought got a little squished on the way over, but it's still good. You pop the last bite into your mouth, feeling the now-familiar fizzle as it vanishes into your body. You're licking a bit of stray spread off your fingertips when Woshua shuffles over.

"Wosh u hand," he says.

You nod, presenting your hands, and a spray of green magic leaves them feeling clean and smooth.

"Thank you," you say, patting him gently on the head.

"Clean!" he replies happily, continuing on his way.

You still can't figure out what Woshua even is (bath tub? washing machine? janitor's mop bucket? bird feeder?), but he's sweet. Actually, that's pretty much how you feel about most monsters, when it comes down to it. Sometimes you think back to the history books you've read about the war, and you wonder if it was a good thing that such a peaceful society opened up to the human world. (Well...mostly peaceful, anyway.)

You never would have been able to meet half of these people if it weren't for Alphys, though. It's a good thing nobody else was there at the time, because nobody but Alphys would ever let you live it down.

It was about two weeks ago, when you were going a little stir crazy and she was heading over to meet Undyne at the skeleton brothers' home. You swiveled your chair around to face her and crossed your arms.

"Okay, I don't get it. You've been to Snowdin once already today, but it didn't take you any time at all. What gives?"

She stopped halfway through putting her coat on and looked incredibly confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how do you do it?" You leaned forward and narrowed your eyes. "Do you know how to use shortcuts like Sans does? Because I swear to god, that skeleton is hiding something from me-"

"I get a ride from the River Person..." she said, her voice shrinking with each word.

You stopped immediately.

"The river what now?"

As it turned out, the bridge to Waterfall wasn't the only way to get out of Hotland, and the steps down to the river were insulated enough not to make you all sweaty and gross the way the rest of Hotland did. The River Person themselves turned out to be fantastic, although you're not sure you always hear them right over the splash of the water. (Either that, or they appear to suffer from a severe shortage of pants.)

Whatever. Right now you've got places to be, even if it's only one place about two minutes away. You haul your backpack up over one shoulder and head up to Napstablook's house. They left the door unlocked for you again, thankfully, so you go inside and set your bag down on the floor.

Napstablook is at their computer, and from the looks of it they're working on a new remix project. They turn to greet you once you're inside, but the thump of your backpack interrupts them.

"Hey. How's it - whoa! How many did you bring?"

"All of them," you unzip your backpack and slide record after record onto the floor. There are only about twelve albums, but a lot of them have two discs, and put together they weigh a ton.

Undyne of all people recommended you and Napstablook hang out, when she saw your music collection and cracked up at what a nerd you were. When she said "Mettaton's cousin might want to see those", you never thought she'd be talking about a ghost, but at this point you've just stopped asking questions when it comes to monster families. Of course, you ended up taking two trips - one to bring over your turntable and one to bring your records. You can sort of only fit one bag on the River Person's boat.

"Alright, let's see...which one do you want to listen to first?" You spread them out to give Napstablook a better look at what you have.

"Huh..." they hover back and forth, looking at the covers. "I've never heard of a few of these... Um, I don't really know. You can pick one if you want."

"Sure," you take a minute to decide which one you think they'd like, and then you slide it gently out of its case and set it on the turntable.

As the needle floats gently down, you stretch out on the floor and tuck your arms behind your head. Napstablook takes their cue from you and lies down on the other side of the turntable, and as the music starts you let your eyes drift shut.

"It sounds a little different," they say softly. "This is how humans used to play all their music?"

"A while ago," you nod. "I don't necessarily think it's better, but...vinyl sort of makes you relax. You can't skip around really quickly or have it on in the background for hours and hours. Records make you stay still and just let the music play."

"Oh," you know them enough to recognize the smile in their voice. "Wow. I think...I think I like that."

You feel a soft glow of happiness deep in your chest. As the music plays on, you feel yourself start to relax in that light, distant way you only really feel at Napstablook's house. You know by now that you'll break the spell if you move, so you lie still and let it move through you. Despite the way the floor presses against your back, you almost feel like you're floating. After the fourth track finishes, you'll have to sit up and turn the disc over, but for now everything is fine.

When the record stops, you open your eyes and sit up, intending to turn it over and resume your quiet afternoon. Instead, you're greeted with the sight of Mettaton standing over you both, causing you to jolt backwards and slip on the paper album covers. You land hard on the floor, thoroughly freaked out and probably red in the face.

"I'm sorry sugar," he says, extending his hand. "You just looked so peaceful, I didn't want to ruin it."

"U-Uh," you take his hand and he helps you up. "Thanks?"

"Mettaton?" Napstablook asks. "What brings you all the way down here?"

"I brought you the tracks I wanted to test out for the next show," Mettaton hands them a CD with something written on it in pink sparkly pen.

"Oh thanks," Napstablook hovers back over to their desk and sets the CD next to the computer. "I'll see what I can put together."

"You're the best Blooky," he hums cheerfully. "And if you see Shyren, let her know that I have an idea for a scene I'd like her opinion on. How do you think she feels about fog machines?"

The idea of Shyren surrounded by fog machines and dramatic lighting is...kind of ridiculous. You try to keep from laughing too loud, but Mettaton hears you. He looks at you with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

"Sorry," you can't look at him, or you'll just keep laughing.

"I'm sure." He doesn't sound like he believes you at all. "Anyway, since you're here, I may as well ask you now. If you have time, I'd like to take you out to dinner this evening."

Your laughter stops rather abruptly. You look at him and blink a few times, waiting for him to laugh, waiting for him to say it was a joke, but he just looks at you expectantly.

"...you would?" you finally say, immediately feeling like an idiot.

"Of course," he smiles, like it's the most obvious thing in the world that he'd want to take you out to dinner.

"Okay," you nod, feeling very warm despite how drafty the house is. This is going to be _such a mistake._

"Excellent," Mettaton beams at you. "I'll meet you at the lab. Is seven alright?"

You just nod, somewhat unable to believe your ears.

"Then it's a date," he winks. "I'll see you later, Blooky!"

His heels tap softly on the floor as he leaves, and you don't notice Napstablook coming back until you feel a faint chill beside you.

"Are you okay?" They ask.

"I think so," you say softly, feeling a familiar guilt crawl through your stomach.

"I don't know a whole lot about that kind of thing," they look down at the floor, "but it seems like he really likes you. He um...he talks about you a lot."

"Really?" you turn to face them, your hands starting to shake.

"M-hm," they nod. "He seems really happy when he talks about you. I'm glad."

"...oh." God, you feel like such a fraud. Here you've got them both convinced you're this nice person, when you're really just pervy, spineless trash.

"Hey," Napstablook hovers a little closer, "are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you lie, "I'm just a little nervous."

"Oh okay," they smile reassuringly. "Sometimes I get nervous around Mettaton, too. He can be a little intimidating. I think you'll be okay."

"I hope you're right," you whisper, already wondering if there's any way _not_ to completely screw this up.

It isn't until you've gone through your closet three times that you realize you don't really own any dressy clothes. You didn't have much room in your suitcases when you moved to the underground, and anything you wear around the lab has to survive the experiments, so you settle for the outfit you wore to your job interview. If this doesn't go completely wrong, maybe you can look into the new MTT fashion line that got released last week. Mettaton designs clothes for everyone, no matter the size, shape, or number of limbs, so you figure it might be worth a look.

The thing is, though, you already know this is going to end badly. If Mettaton is serious about this, you're going to have to come clean about how you watched him in his dressing room. You're pretty good at keeping secrets for the most part, but you have limits. Despite the fact that you honestly didn't intend to spy in on him, and despite the fact that he seems to have no idea it happened, you just can't bring yourself to keep acting like it didn't happen. Every time you look at him, all you can think about is how awful you feel about it, and it's driving you nuts. He seems to actually like you as a person, and he really, _really_ shouldn't.

You wind up obsessing over it for so long, you lose track of time. You're double-checking that your hair looks alright when you get a text from Alphys.

[hey...MTT just got here and he says he's here to see you?]

You look at the clock and sure enough, it's seven on the dot. Instead of texting her back, you decide this is as good as you're gonna look and make your way into the front hall.

"Hey," you put your phone in your pocket, "sorry about that, I was-"

Your words die in your throat at the sight of Mettaton, who stands leaning against the door frame, wearing a suit with a pink tie that _matches his lipstick oh god you are so underdressed._ You consider just running back into the lab and hopefully finding a way to forget this ever happened, but it's far too late. He's clearly already seen you, by the way his uncovered eye brightens up. His pixelated pupil turns into an actual heart, and you feel your stomach twist. He's so fucking beautiful, and you don't even deserve to stand in the same room, much less go out in public with him.

"Oh, you look _dazzling~_ " he says, walking past Alphys and extending his hand. Shakily, you give him yours, and when he presses a soft kiss to your fingers, his lipstick doesn't transfer.

"T-Thanks," you say, feeling your voice squeak a little. "You look..."

You glance down at his boots, black and shiny on top but bright pink on the soles and heel.

"...wow." You finish eloquently.

"You're too kind," he laughs softly, but it's gentle enough not to sound mean. "Now then, I've made reservations for us at the best restaurant in the whole underground. I do hope you find it to your liking~"

He offers you his arm, and it takes you a moment to work up the nerve to loop your elbow through his. Alphys is standing by her desk, phone in one hand, possibly taking a photo to send to Undyne. She looks half confused and half like she's gonna die of laughter. You sort of can't believe this is actually happening.

"Have fun, you t-two," she chuckles, looking at you over her glasses with eyes that clearly say, " _I can't wait to hear how **this** goes_ ".

"Oh don't worry, we will," Mettaton flips his hair just a little, and for half a second you wonder if he's known all along about what you did, and tonight is when he's gonna call you out on it, and what the hell is gonna happen after that, but then he keeps talking. "I've had my chefs working on new recipes from all across the surface, so it's sure to be fabulous!"

Because _obviously_ by "the best restaurant in the whole underground", he meant the one at the MTT resort. You sort of saw that coming when he offered to take you to dinner in the first place, but you figure what the hell. You've never actually been there before, so at least it will be something new? Although you did hear the burgers have actual sequins glued to them, so maybe this isn't such a good idea.

 _Yeah, that's the only reason this isn't a good idea_ , you think, nervously waving goodbye to Alphys.

When you arrive at the resort, the fountain in the middle of the front hall captures your attention entirely. The base is weirdly shaped, larger on the left side than the right. You get the feeling they might have just stuck an extension onto the bottom, probably to keep the water spewing from the Mettaton statue's mouth from getting all over the floor. The statue is cute, though. Your favorite body of Mettaton's is the EX, but the boxy model is certainly charming. (And...well, his voice sounds a lot rougher and more electronic in the box body. Both models have their perks. It's definitely not just the fact that you're a filthy robot fucker. Nope.)

"Damn," you say, slowly looking around the room. "I've heard about this place, but seeing it in person is something else."

"I'm glad you approve," he says, and he sounds a lot less smug than you expected.

You feel guilt flare up in your stomach again. You've been wondering since he asked you out whether this was just him messing with you, and to your shock and significant dread, it's starting to sound like he's not. Fuck, this is going to be a disaster. If he was messing with you, it would be a hell of a lot easier to just play along, but he seems so genuine. And Napstablook is basically incapable of being underhanded, so what they told you was probably true, and _god damn it_. You're going to end up confessing your sins before the night is done, and this is all going to go straight to hell.

But hey, you might as well enjoy dinner while you can.

The host seems to be expecting you, and as you walk across the restaurant you can feel the heat of Mettaton's arm linked with yours. A faint hum comes from his body, perhaps some kind of fan or processor or something, and even the click of his heels on the tile is starting to get to you. He pulls out your chair for you, a gesture you're actually not a fan of, but you decide you'll correct him next time around. (If there even is one.) There are already two glasses of water on the table, and it isn't until you sit down that you realize how unusual that is.

"Okay, this might be a rude question..." you say, looking over at him, "but can you even eat anything on this menu?"

"Not any of the human food," he shakes his head, flipping through the pages of the menu in front of him. "Alphys has yet to figure out how to make that work. Monster food is alright, though. This body can absorb the energy directly into its power cells. The other one...well, it doesn't have a mouth."

You laugh softly as you read through the list of entrees. There's a whole section advertising recipes from the surface, but they seem to be combinations of dishes you never would have thought to pair. The page of human food is bordered in red filigree, and there's a note at the top advising that it is not recommended for guests who have no mouth, digestive system, or physical body.

"How long has this restaurant served human food?" you ask.

"We've had a few dishes on offer since the barrier came down, but we only expanded recently," there's a touch of pride to Mettaton's voice, as there always is when he talks about any of his business ventures. "I had the opportunity to observe human cuisine on my tour of the surface. As with all things, humans are considerably creative when it comes to food."

"These are certainly creative."

You wonder if you're feeling brave enough to try Teriyaki Lasagna or Double Chocolate Bratwurst. The normal menu looks pretty nice, although there's a steak that has Mettaton's rectangular face shape burned into it, advertised as "Back For A Limited Time~!". God, if Mettaton is good at anything, it's keeping things on-brand.

(A mental image from the first time you saw him flashes back to mind, and you feel yourself blush intensely.)

"Are you ready to order, dear?"

You look up to see him gazing across the table at you, a wistful sort of smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It feels like someone took hold of your heart and squeezed as hard as they could.

"I think so," you nod.

Mettaton lifts his hand without a word, and one of the waitstaff comes over to take your order. You decide to stick with monster food; even if it's bad, you won't have to taste it for long anyway.

"I've always wanted to try Showdown Soup," you say, handing your menu to the waiter. "Ever since I saw it on your cooking show, anyway."

Mettaton looks at you for a moment, apparently surprised, before handing his over as well.

"You know what I want," he raises both eyebrows at the waiter, and they just nod and walk back toward the kitchen. "Well done, darling. You've managed to take me by surprise. Of all things, I never expected you to order soup that's meant to taste like a human soul."

"It just looked really nice on TV. I mean, I don't know what a human soul tastes like," you shrug. "I can never find any of your flavor substitute stuff in the store. It's always sold out."

"Confidentially," he glances around to make sure no one is listening (unnecessary, considering the whole place is empty), "neither do I."

"Wait, really?" you tilt your head a little. "You use that stuff so often in your cooking show."

Mettaton folds his hands on the table and looks down at them, and it almost looks like he's embarrassed.

"That flavor substitute...was never actually supposed to exist. Alphys came up with the idea for the cooking show segment with Frisk, but demand was so high after the battle we had to come up with something. We talked to everyone who had ever seen a human soul in person to try and put together a convincing flavor. It's actually just butterscotch flavoring mixed with a few spices."

"Huh," you wonder how that'll taste in a soup you remember containing chainsaw-sliced tomatoes and snail shell-shaped noodles. "I look forward to trying it."

"Alright gorgeous, it's my turn to ask a rude question." He rests one arm on the table and leans forward. "Why didn't you order any of the human dishes? Do they sound unappetizing? Do I need to modify them?"

"No no no," you shake your head. "I-I mean, a couple of them sounded a little out there, but that's not why. I...kinda prefer monster food. It doesn't make me feel all sleepy or full after I eat it."

Mettaton blinks, and then a soft smile grows over his face.

"So, would you say it doesn't make you feel like garbage?"

"Yeah, I would," you actually giggle. "Although feeling like garbage is a lot more fun with friends around."

Mettaton's cousin introduced you to their family tradition when you brought over your turntable. Without any music to play, you decided to just eat your lunch at their house and chat. They had gotten some spectral leftovers out of the fridge, and you swear you've never had a better time just lying on the floor and doing nothing.

"So I gathered," Mettaton sighs softly. "You know, that's part of what led me to ask you to dinner."

You furrow your brows. "...what?"

"Blooky can be a bit of a wet blanket," he says, "but you're still so kind to them. When I want to know what someone is really like, I can't just rely on the way they act around me. There _are_ disadvantages to being the superstar of the underground, after all. People practically trip over themselves trying to get on my good side, just because they think some of my glory will rub off."

He turns his head to one side, and the flicker of the fire-magic lighting throws his face into deep shadow. It becomes glaringly obvious that he's practiced that move. You can't decide whether to laugh or cringe.

"But you," he continues, turning back to you with a magazine-cover-caliber smile, "you've brought my cousin nothing but happiness. I can tell Alphys really enjoys working with you. It makes me want to spend more time with you, but it seems like your work keeps you rather busy, so..."

He waves a hand out to indicate the room around you, with the look of someone whose grand master plan has all fallen into place. You hope your despair isn't too evident on your face, because it's starting to claw its way up your chest. He actually thinks you're a good person! He thinks you're the kind of person he'd want to spend time with! God, you're gonna have to move back up to the surface when this is all over.

You open your mouth, not really sure what you'd say first, but then the waiter arrives with your food. Mettaton apparently ordered the steak shaped like him, which upon closer inspection doesn't look like actual meat. The bowl of soup the waiter sets in front of you is nice and hot, and floating on the surface is an upside-down yellow heart. Mettaton looks at you expectantly, probably waiting to see what you think of it.

You give up for now and bring a spoonful up to your mouth. It tastes surprisingly good, and as it dissolves into you, its warmth spreads gently through your body. You hum softly without even realizing it, and Mettaton looks happy enough to die. You decide to just not say anything until you're done eating.

When your bowl is empty, however, Mettaton stands up and offers you his arm again.

"If you'd like," he says, "I'd love to show you the top floor lounge. There's a window that lets you see all the way to the castle."

That sounds lovely, and the warmth and energy of your dinner has made you calm down, so you're content to keep up the illusion that you're not complete trash for another few minutes. You take his arm and he leads you to the elevator, which hums rather loudly but doesn't feel like it's moving.

When the doors open, all you can see is glimmering blue. The entire wall on the other side of the room is a tremendous window, and you can see buildings stretching out into the distance. The castle sits beyond them, faintly illuminated by the thousands of glittering gems above. You let go of Mettaton and walk past the chairs and tables and sofas and chaises and beanbags, until your hands touch the glass.

"It's so beautiful," you whisper, and you're standing so close that your breath clouds the window.

"I thought you might enjoy it."

Mettaton stands beside you, facing away from the wonders outside. You turn to him, your head and your heart starting a fight to the death. He's still smiling. He still looks so happy. He has absolutely no reason to do either.

"You look so lovely," his hand comes up, resting gently on your shoulder. It feels warm and right and you don't deserve it.

"So do you," you say, instead of the hundred other things you should be saying.

"If it's alright," he moves in a little, his voice a soft electric whisper, "I'd like to kiss you."

God, that's the last thing he should do, but you want it so badly. Even with a confession on the tip of your tongue, fully prepared to flip the switch and end this charade, you feel yourself nod. He smiles again, leans in, but before he reaches you, disgust wells up in your throat, and you put a hand on his chest.

" _Wait_."

He stops immediately and draws back, looking concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly.

"I have to tell you something," your eyes fall straight to the floor.

"I'm listening."

You hesitate for a moment, feeling your hands start to shake, but it's too late to turn back.

"When you did your last show," you have to fight to get the words out, "the night before Alphys introduced us, I...I saw you."

"You...saw me?" He asks. "I thought you didn't like crowds-"

"Not the show," you shake your head, still unable to look at him. "After. In your...I was working late. My office is on the same floor as your dressing room. I thought maybe it was somebody - oh, screw it. There's no excuse."

You drop your hand from his chest and take a step back, rubbing your hands over your face. Mettaton doesn't say anything for a second, but then he seems to put together your meaning.

"Oh my..." he murmurs, and when you look up you can see a faint glow of pink on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," you sigh heavily. "I just...you're so nice to me. I thought maybe I could just forget it happened, but..."

"Did it upset you?" He asks, concern in his eyes. "God, I didn't even know you were working there, or I would have closed my door."

"W-What?" you blink a few times. "This isn't _your_ fault. I could have just left, or I could have said something, or...I don't know."

Mettaton is quiet, and you start to panic a little bit.

"You didn't leave...?" he asks, sounding thoughtful. "How much did you see?"

Your hands come back up to your face, covering your eyes as though that will help. "...everything. I think. I'm so sorry."

"Oh darling," his hands come up to your wrists, and he gently lowers your arms, "you have nothing to apologize for."

".........what?"

You open your eyes, and he's looking at you with even more kindness in his eyes than he had at dinner. The pink in his cheeks has spread a little, and the corner of his bottom lip is pinched between his shiny enamel teeth.

"Thank you for telling me," he murmurs. "I'm not mad at you, but I appreciate your honesty."

"I-you- _really_ _?_ " you say, disbelief pouring over you like cold water. "You don't think...you still want to _speak_ to me?"

"Of course," he says, his eyes flicking down to your lips. "I still want to kiss you, if it's alright."

You wait for a long moment, expecting him to retract his offer or say he's joking or just fucking leave, but he doesn't. He means it. Even now that he knows everything, he still...oh fuck. This is _happening_.

"Okay," you nod, and the feeling of his hand sliding into your hair is so fucking perfect.

He kisses you slowly, sweetly, and his mouth is warm and soft. His other arm slides around your waist, and you grab him by the lapels of his suit to pull him closer. All the guilt and worry and despair tumbles out of you, and the space left behind starts to fill up with heat and hunger. He nips lightly at your bottom lip, and when you open your mouth he's ready for you. He tastes sweet, faintly tart, and his silicone tongue slides over yours with purpose. You break away to breathe, and he presses his lips against the spot just below your ear.

"Did you like what you saw?"

A brief flash of nervousness goes through you, but you're a little too far gone to care. "Yeah."

"Would you like to see more?" he purrs.

"God yes."

"Why don't we go upstairs to my suite, then?" He whispers the words against the side of your neck. "I can put on another show for you."

" _Please_." The word is barely more than breath.

In an instant he's leading you sideways, to another elevator that he opens with a wave of his hand. He never lets go of you, and his arms whir softly as they stretch across your back. The doors open onto a huge, open room, with glittery pink tile on the floor and signed tour posters covering the walls. A chandelier shaped like a twinkling pink heart hangs in the center of the ceiling, and beside the (round, fuchsia, _enormous_ ) bed is a vanity twice the size of the one in his dressing room. It's gorgeous. It's gaudy. It's just so perfectly _Mettaton_.

Speaking of whom, he pulls you inside impatiently and pushes you up against the door when it shuts. His mouth is at your neck again, and he's close enough that you can hear the whirr of the motor that moves his tongue across your skin. It's exhilarating. One of your hands grips his hair, and the stuttering moan it pulls from him makes you shiver.

"I want to see you," his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. You nod and lift your arms, and the rush of cold air makes you gasp as he lifts it off of you. When his mouth comes back to your neck, it feels even hotter as he kisses his way down your shoulder. His thumbs hook into your waistband - both of them, and you can't step out of your shoes fast enough so he can slide them down your legs.

"Oh darling," he murmurs, his arms stretching down so he can run his hands up the back of your legs, "you are _beautiful_."

"You too." You kiss him hungrily and then pull at his tie, wanting nothing more than to see the shining metal underneath his suit.

"Of course," he tugs at it, and something in the knot gives way so it slips off his neck. He then takes a step back, letting it flutter to the floor, and you watch him slowly unbutton his jacket as he keeps moving backward. "Follow me, sugar."

You do so, walking just as slowly as he does, not really caring if you step on the clothing he discards along the way. He unbuttons both jacket and shirt before leaning his shoulders back, and they slide off together. The glass chamber holding his heart is nearly half-filled with pink fluid, and without the fabric to muffle the sound, you can hear a faint electric whine coming from the speaker in his chest. Knowing he's at least half as worked up as you are is a rather small comfort.

He times it perfectly, so you're both undressed right before he reaches the plush black sofa in the middle of the room. He lets himself fall back dramatically, his hair falling to the side so you can see both of his eyes. Just like last time, he runs his hands up the insides of his thighs (they're half-covered by the shiny black of his boots, which as it turns out are built into his legs, not that you're complaining).

"Have a seat, darling," he beckons you, patting his leg gently, "and look but don't touch. I promise you'll have the best seat in the house."

You straddle his thighs, already so wet your own feel sticky. He glances down and licks his lips, and the pink flush in his cheeks intensifies.

"Oh my," he hums happily, "that's not all my doing, is it?"

You look away, biting your lip, but he turns your head back to face him.

"In case this needs saying," he draws his hand back and taps his fingertips softly against his heart container, "when I say 'look but don't touch', I only mean you shouldn't touch me. Not yet, anyway."

You nod, and with a soft hiss, the front of his heart container slides open. You're close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his soul, and you can hear the wet dripping sounds as the fluid shifts with his movement. He brings one hand up and slides a single fingertip over the edge, and when he shivers you feel his legs shake underneath you.

"No, please let me h-hhear you, sugar," he pants, and that's when you realize your hand is covering your mouth.

"Sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay," his fingers continue to slide over the surface of his heart. "You don't have ttt-o hide. I want to hear you. I want to s-s-s- _see_ how much I turn you on."

You gasp a little at how much his voice is glitching. His heart has softened so much already, his fingertips slide easily inward, making soft wet noises as he moves them in and out. You almost cover your mouth again before remembering what he said, so the moan that leaves your lips at the sight of him is louder than you expected. 

"Ngh...yes," he whines, "keep yy-your eyes on me. Fuck, I'm _dripping_ for you."

One of your hands has been moving slowly toward your hip, and remembering that he _wants_ you to enjoy this, you let your fingers slide lightly over your clit. Not too much, or else this will be over too quickly, but enough to draw a shaky sigh out of you. He twitches upward, and the liquid in the container spills out a little, running in bright channels down his body.

"God, do you _see_ _that_?" he lets his head fall back against the sofa, looking up at you with hooded eyes. "Do you see how-w-w wet you make me? Oh gorgeous, I can't take this much longer."

His other hand, which has up to now been squeezing at one of his thighs, moves upward to a familiar switch on his hip. He doesn't waste any time deciding, turning the dial exactly where he wants it, and a thrill runs through you when you see the fluid start to drain out of the tank. Sure enough, the plates between his legs slide open, their edges smeared with pink that drips from his inner lips. His fingers curl inside, removing the considerable temptation to touch him yourself, and his back arches upwards as he moans.

"This is what you saw, i-i-isn't it?" He asks, panting softly between his words. "How do you like it from this angle?"

He removes his fingers from his heart for a moment and lifts them up, swirling his tongue around one of them until pink drips from his mouth. Your hand starts to move a little faster over your clit, and a soft whine escapes you. 

"So much better," you're panting now, only sort of thinking about what you're saying. "You look so fucking hot, _hnn-_ "

A bolt of pleasure runs up your back, and your eyes squeeze shut for a second as you curl forward. This isn't gonna take long. When you look back up at Mettaton, his hand is back on his soul, and he's gazing up at you with flickering hearts in his eyes.

"You're such-hhhh a good a-a-audience," his legs shake underneath you again. "Mmmm...did you do this last-t-t-time? Or were you afraid I'd hear you?"

"Not when I saw you," you shake your head, fighting to keep your eyes open because you don't want to miss a moment of this. "After."

Mettaton lets out a high, breathless sob that ends with a sharp mechanical buzz. He's so wet it's dripping onto the sofa underneath him, and when you look down you're stunned to see a few drops of your own slick have hit the fabric, as well.

"Yessss-s," he hisses. "Did-did you make yyyyourself come, darling?"

You're damn close to doing that right now, but you can tell your words are driving him wild, and the way his voice is shorting out is _so_ fucking hot.

"Twice," you gasp, feeling your hips start to buck upward, "and the second time...I was saying your name."

That does it. His back snaps upward and liquid surges from his heart, flowing down his body and making an absolute mess. His moans overlap and repeat over each other until they short out completely, and by some miracle you keep your eyes open until he falls back against the sofa. You come so hard you nearly fall backward, and one of his arms come up behind you to hold you steady. Your hips shake violently as it burns through you, until finally you collapse forward, throwing a hand out against the sofa to stay up.

"So beautiful," Mettaton whispers, and you feel his hand come up to caress your cheek. It's still wet, and you turn your face towards it and take two of his fingers into your mouth. 

"Mmm," you hum delightedly. He tastes like fucking _candy_ , and you can't get enough of it. "That...that was amazing."

"You're telling me," he pulls you down for a kiss, slow and sweet and wonderful. "Now, please tell me you don't still feel bad about seeing me before."

"If you're okay, I'm okay," your eyes wander down to his heart, still wet and shiny. You remember the magic returning to it once he was done, and the fact that it's still soft and slippery makes a spark of curiosity catch in the back of your mind. You reach forward without really thinking, but stop before you actually touch him.

"Oh, I'm more than okay," his hand moves down to your hip. "You can touch me now, if you like."

You don't need to be told twice. You bring your hand up and gently slide your fingers up the center. Mettaton's eyes slide shut and he shudders, a little quieter now. His heart is warm, almost hot, and its fluid is thick and sticky. You lick your lips, bringing your other hand up and cupping the heart from underneath.

"You, y-yyou," Mettaton lets out a crackly whine, "I-I can _feel_ you."

"Can I move it?" you ask softly. Even though it doesn't seem to be attached to anything, you still feel like you should ask.

Mettaton nods, and you slowly lift his heart up until it's right next to your face. Watching him to make sure he's okay, you let your tongue slide out and lave it over the surface.

"Nnngh!" He squeezes your hip, his manicured nails digging into your skin. "Oh _yessss_ ~"

That's certainly encouraging. You push your tongue a little more firmly against it this time, and when that gets you a high-pitched moan and his legs twitching upward under you, you press your lips against it and drink him in. His heart pulses faintly against your mouth, and when you gently knead at the other side with your fingers, liquid begins to drip down your chin. It drips onto you, and onto him, and then you feel one of his hands slide over your hip, heading between your legs.

"I wwww-want to," he gasps. "May I?"

" _Yes_ ," you groan, your voice somewhat muffled against his heart.

One of his fingers slips inside you, gently curling forward and hitting exactly where you need it. A second one is quick to follow, and soon you're rocking your hips forward to match his rhythm. You feel your own fingertips sink into his heart, the warmth surrounding them and causing a rush of liquid to fall all the way to your stomach. Mettaton's head snaps to one side, his hair falling dramatically over one of his eyes.

"Oh, _o-ohh-h-h..._ " he bites his lip and looks at you with pleading eyes. "Darling, it's t-t-oo much."

"Should I stop?"

" _Don't you dare_ ," he growls, and his other hand moves to join the first.

His thumb presses against your clit, moving steadily over it, and it's not enough to distract you until it starts to fucking _vibrate_. You pull back to keep from biting down on his heart, but your hands still squeeze tightly around it. Mettaton's eyes shut tight, and his moan skips and repeats so quickly, you know he's nearly there. You take the tip of his heart into your mouth and suck gently, working your fingers a little more quickly on the top. You feel your own pleasure building inside you, and soon you have to take your mouth away because you're breathing so hard. Your hands begin to drop a little as you get close, still pressing and squeezing even as you start to lose focus. Mettaton sits up a little, and before you can ask why he kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your lips. His mouth moves down your jaw, and he licks the liquid off of your neck and collarbone before biting down.

Your body burns again, the sharp sting of his teeth setting you off so you clench hard around his fingers. Your hands squeeze his heart involuntarily, and you can feel Mettaton bite down harder, mechanical breath hot against your skin. Your ears actually hurt from how loud he screams, and from the clipping sounds, his system couldn't quite handle it either. You both fall back onto the sofa, and you're still trying to catch your breath when you feel the magic begin to tingle and dissolve off of you. When you can finally sit up again, you hear the soft swish of Mettaton's heart container closing again. You hold yourself up on his shoulders, and one of his hands gently brushes over your hair.

"I've never..." Mettaton sighs softly. "I had no idea what it felt like, to have a human touch your soul like that."

"Did it feel good?" you ask. Your mouth still tastes like him, and since it didn't tingle earlier, you wonder if your body absorbed the magic.

"It felt exquisite," he sits upright and kisses you languidly. "I'm so glad I met you, darling."

You blush, but you don't look away from him. "...me, too."

"I think we could both do with a bit of rest and recharging. How does that sound?"

"Good," you nod, "although..."

You look down at yourself, hoping he understands that your body doesn't reset itself quite the same way his does.

"I know just the thing for that," Mettaton slides his arms around you and stands up, and with a surprised yelp you find yourself held securely above the ground.

He walks you through a gold-curtained doorway and into his bathroom, the middle of which contains a tub that's sunken into the floor. He lowers you in gently, and the water is just hot enough to relax you. He picks up a few bottles of soap and who even knows what else from the counter, and together you both get nice and clean. You start to feel a sense of calm flow through you, almost like how you feel at Napstablook's, but...warmer? It's hard to explain. There's just this sense that Mettaton understands you, or at least wants to. You've never felt anything quite like it.

The bathrobe he gives you is at least two sizes too big, but it's soft and it doesn't feel like it will fall off. He turns down the covers for you, sticking a charging cable into a port in his neck and curling up beside you. As you start to drift off, you feel his lips press against your forehead.

"Are you happy, darling?" he whispers.

"M-hm," you nod.

"Good."

You think the lights turn off, but it could just be that you fall asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Mettaton is still there. He's across the room sorting through his outfits, occasionally holding up accessories or makeup palettes to an article of clothing. You roll out of bed and look at the clock, whereupon you promptly panic.

"Oh fuck," you scramble to find your clothes, finding them folded on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "I have to get to work!"

"Really?" Mettaton asks, turning to face you. "I'm so sorry, darling. If I'd known you work on Sundays, I would have woken you up earlier!"

"It's Sunday," you sink back onto the chaise that sits next to the sofa, relief falling over you like a blanket. "Oh thank god."

Mettaton laughs softly and returns to his clothing.

"That Starfait is for you, by the way," he says. "I thought you might want breakfast."

You examine the tall glass full of rainbow-colored stars and cream. It's adorable. You think you remember seeing it at some point during the recording of Frisk's battle with Mettaton. You take a bite, and the fresh sweetness melts into your tongue. It's delicious.

Once you've eaten, you dress yourself again and walk over to Mettaton, not really sure how to begin. After a moment, he notices you, and he sets the clothes in his hands back on the shelf.

"Even though it's my day off, I...should probably get back to the lab," you sigh. "But I'd like to see you again soon."

"Darling, of course you'll see me again," Mettaton takes your hand in his and kisses it softly. "I'll be working with Alphys and Blooky all the time. What I'd like to know is if you'd like to make this," he waves his other hand between you both, "a more regular occurrence."

"Of course," you say, and you try and smile with the same confidence he has. You're not entirely sure you pull it off.

"Marvelous." He drops your hand and steps forward, kissing you sweetly for a long, long time. "Then I'll see you soon, darling~"

"I can't wait," you say, and you mean it.

You catch yourself humming one of your favorite songs on the way home, and when you reach the lab you're feeling almost lightheaded. You're nearly at the door to the back section of the lab when you hear Alphys on the level above you.

"S-so, I take it that went well."

You jump, but you figure she was gonna ask you sooner or later, so you take the conveyor up to get it over with. Your face has to be fire-truck red by the time you're at her work table, and the way she looks at you over her glasses doesn't help.

"...yeah," you nod. "Yeah, it went well."

"I h-hope this isn't too personal," she looks to one side. "But...for a while you were acting like there was something you didn't want to tell him. I'm not asking what it is, I j-just know what that's like, so-"

"I did," you nod again, "and I told him."

"And it turned out alright?"

"Yeah," you smile like a complete fool.

"Good," Alphys pats you on the arm. "I'm glad. That can be...terrifying, and I was hoping you'd get as lucky as I did."

"Thanks..." you hug her lightly, your heart filling with gratitude. Alphys has been so understanding, but clearly you underestimated how much she really knew. "That means a lot."

"Sure thing," she steps back and grins at you. "And hey, maybe with you, he'll calm down a little."

"Hey," you laugh, "humans aren't made of magic, remember?"

"I guess not," she sighs exaggeratedly. "Oh by the way, I...sort of already told Undyne about you two. And I think she told Papyrus."

"You _what_?" You ask, bringing your hands up to your hair. "Oh god, and if Papyrus knows, the whole _underground_ knows."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you take it out of your pocket to see a text from Sans.

[hey. heard you had a good time last night. hope you get a chance to **recharge**.]

"...that's it," you turn and head back down the conveyor, "I'm throwing my phone into the Core."


End file.
